


Long Overdue

by twist_and_scream



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Fenris Feels, Fenris Has Issues, Fenris and Hawke get back together, Protective Varric, Reconciliation, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 04:36:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8314168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twist_and_scream/pseuds/twist_and_scream
Summary: "Not talking about it" isn't always the best solution. Especially when everyone is still thinking about it.  aka-a re-telling of Fenris/Hawke getting back together in Act III, with some Fenris/Isabela shenanigans, which turned out obscenely longer than planned.





	1. Chapter 1

“Maker, eat your heart out,” Isabela groaned, her nails digging into Fenris’ chest while she kissed him with as much tongue as she possessed.

Fenris tipped Isabela off of him, wiping off his mouth and panting hard. He had to hand it to Isabela, the sex didn’t get less amazing, even after almost three months of it. Isabela rolled out of bed, sauntering to the washbasin and carelessly splashing water on her inner thighs. Arching his back, Fenris smothered a wince, wondering if he had pulled a muscle or his tattoos were complaining from the rough and tumble treatment.

“Ready for another round already?” Isabela laughed when she noticed him wiggle, leaving her legs dripping as she walked around the room to find her clothes.

“I don’t think even you have that stamina,” Fenris challenged, wiping sweat off his shoulders and chest. 

“It’s not about stamina. But, even I know sex gets a little sweeter when you have to wait,” Isabela smirked, throwing Fenris’ shirt at him. “Or make the other person beg.”

“I’ll believe you know that second part,” Fenris sat up, catching his pants. “I’m not sure you’ve ever tried the first.”

“Oh, hush,” Isabela scolded without a trace of anger. Pulling on her version of clothes and gathering her weapons, Isabela asked, “Tomorrow night? Or do you need more of a breather?”

“Neither,” Fenris informed, shrugging at Isabela's frown. “Hawke and Aveline are running a Lowtown patrol. I agreed to accompany them.”

Isabela looked at Fenris over her shoulder as she tugged on her boot, one eyebrow raised and her mouth pursed in amusement. It was a look Fenris knew all too well, and still wasn’t sure he liked when it was targeting him.

“Helping Hawke again?” Isabela stood up, fluffing her tunic unabashedly over her ass. “What was it last week…smugglers, I think. And before that, slavers. And before that..more smugglers. It’s getting hard to find free nights.”

Isabela laughed, standing at the end of the bed and shaking her head while she smiled. Now Fenris was sure he hated that look.

“Is there a point to this observation?” Fenris asked, getting up for his turn at the washbasin.

“I’d have to be blind, deaf and stupid not to notice,” Isabela scoffed. “You’re like two hounds pining, you can practically smell the sexual frustration."

Fenris threw a handful of water at Isabela, wetting his neck and trying to ignore the accusation. He couldn’t let himself think of sex and Hawke in the same breath. It was better that way, to see that as a thing of the past, not something he should still think about. Especially when he was still naked and washing off a night with Isabela.

“That ended a long time ago,” Fenris dismissed the idea curtly, drying himself off and pulling on his pants. “I like making sure thugs don’t stab my friends in the back when Aveline enlists them.”

“Oh, please,” Isabela scoffed, tossing her hair and coming to study Fenris. “I’ve seen how you look at her, when you think she won’t notice. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. Lingering, memorizing, _coveting_ , lus-”

“I said it was over,” Fenris said, throwing aside the drying rag. “I thought you understood leaving the past where it should be.”

“Only when it is really the past,” Isabela retorted, rolling her eyes at Fenris’ forbidding grunt. “Not ogling each other constantly.”

“Is this you being jealous?” Fenris asked, gesturing to their surroundings. Not that they had made any promises, or that Isabela had a leg to stand on in that area even if they had, but they had been doing this long enough, it sometimes crossed his mind when he kissed her goodnight or she dragged him out of the bar insistently. That did not make this line of questioning any more comfortable.

“Hardly,” Isabela scoffed loudly at the idea. “You can bed her silly or ask her to join in, who hasn’t thought about the Champion of Kirkwall in the sack? Just tell me, I don't like wondering if something's on or off the table. But it's a bit sickening to watch you two .”

“Then stop looking for it,” Fenris ordered sharply.

Isabela’s eyes glinting triumphantly as she struck a nerve. Fenris jerked on his shirt, avoiding Isabela’s penetrating gaze. Cutting him off when he tried to pace away, Isabela looked disappointed when Fenris physically leaned away from the question. Sighing in exasperation, Isabela waved her hand, ushering her annoyance away in the motion.

“Have it your way,” Isabela dropped the sour subject as easily as she had picked up on it.

Shrugging cavalierly, Isabela seized Fenris’ shirt collar, dragging him into a fierce kiss. Fenris let the kiss capture him, swept up in Isabela’s demanding touch. Isabela was a force of nature, sweeping away everything else. Isabela was easy, seizing the moment and leaving the past. There didn't have to be a meticulous plan; there was just fun and sex, while they had the chance.

But then the kiss ended, and Isabela left. A force of nature, Fenris thought as he watched Isabela leave, hitting like storm at sea and flitting away with the next wind while Fenris was left alone with his thoughts. Kirkwall was falling around them. Danarius was dead, and Fenris’ new life stretched before him, a vast world without answers.And he was on patrol with Hawke tomorrow night.

Hissing, Fenris paced to distract himself from his solitude. He should be happy with what he had. He was happy, when he was fighting beside Hawke, caught up in the rush of battle.He was happy, when he was with Isabela, getting to forget the chaos around them until he and Isabela were exhausted. He was happy, sitting beside Hawke in the Hanged Man or in the Hawke estate, seeing the burdens the city heaped upon her lightened for a moment when she laughed at Varric’s gossip or Isabela's antics. That should be enough.

Sitting on the edge of the rumpled bed, Fenris rebelled against the ache in his chest at the thought of Hawke’s laugh. He had been thinking about that night again, like the fool that he was. Hawke’s hands on him, her skin flushed and shivering under his fingers. Hawke’s smile when Fenris kissed her.The smile that had still been there after that night, in spite of everything. 

Straightening his bed, Fenris sprawled out, listening to the silence around him.Hawke on the battlefield, Isabela in bed; most men would pay to get one of those. Fenris closed his eyes, the turmoil of that night flooding back, glimpses of painful memories mixing with blissful comfort. Wrapping himself in the blankets, Fenris curled up as he remembered the feel of Hawke’s arms around him, holding him close as they lay quiet. He thought he had stopped being this foolish; but he couldn’t force himself to leave that feeling in the past. Even Isabela couldn’t help him forget that.


	2. Chapter 2

_Five Months Later_

 

“You won. How are you still winning? I thought I’d gotten better!” Merrill lamented, dropping her cards.

“Because I’m still cheating, Kitten,” Isabela informed affectionately, gathering the cards to shuffle.

“But…but…but you said you wouldn’t!” Merrill wailed. “You said, last night-“

“That was last night,” Isabela fanned the cards eagerly. “I can only follow the rules for so long. But you are getting better.”

Merrill sighed mournfully, accepting a new hand of cards while Varric chuckled from his seat beside them. Sorcha Hawke tried not to laugh, sipping her watered ale while she looked over the tables. It was a rare quiet night, when they could enjoy themselves, without someone looking for a fight or a favor. Merrill and Isabela were one their second game while Varric waited for his turn. Aveline was fretting over the state of the city with a fellow wayward guard, carving out a circle of decorum amongst the carefree drinkers. Anders was getting himself a drink, his increasingly rare laugh ringing out from the bar top as he gossiped with the bartender.

“Fenris, how about we play a game? I could squeeze another five coin out of Hawke’s purse,” Varric teased, stopping just short of elbowing Fenris.

“I said ‘no’ once, Varric. You claim to be a master of words, you must know what that means,” Fenris sighed.

Fenris was also quiet this evening. Fenris was quiet most evenings, but this was a different sort of quiet, extending beyond Anders and Merrill to include Hawke and Isabela. He had been quiet for weeks now, Hawke tried not to worry. At first, she had thought it was because of what happened with Danarius, but Fenris had insisted he was fine when she asked. Pushing away his brimming cup of ale, Fenris caught her looking, offering a crooked smile before delving back into the table for answers, leaning on his arms and letting his elbow rest against Hawke’s.

She needed to stop noticing things like that, Hawke scolded herself. They were just glances as Fenris monitored his surroundings, nothing more. Fenris kept track of his reinforcements, for someone he could trust in a fight if one inevitably broke out, for the friend that would have his back. Anything else had ended a long time ago, with a night that Hawke needed to forget. Fenris had proven it with that stint in Isabela’s bed a four months ago, and Hawke through a month with a friendly guard soon after, hadn’t they? Yes, Hawke almost nodded to herself to prove it. Anything else was her imagination. 

“I know that face,” Anders warned as he joined Hawke, licking splashed ale off his hand and ignoring Fenris. “I don’t like that face, it usually means you’re leading us somewhere bad.”

“I’m just thinking,” Hawke laughed.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Anders made himself comfortable, leaning across the table. “But, as long as it’s _just_ thinking.”

“Says the mage who whines about not having the freedom think and say whatever he wants,” Fenris grumbled.

“You like the excitement,” Hawke retorted before a squabble broke out.

“I’m not against peace, every now and then,” Anders said with less levity before he grinned. “But it does depend on the trouble.”

Fenris glared at Anders with his customary disdain, but Anders sighed, tipping his head back to consider the ceiling as he descended into one of his own morose silences. Varric noticed, frowning at Hawke good-naturedly and mimicking Anders with an exaggerated pout to get a snort from Fenris. Anders shook his head, grinning and scolding, “Now you have me doing it. Very clever, Hawke.”

Anders tapped his mug against Hawke’s and took a long draw, washing down his amicable accusation. Looking over the bar again, Hawke was glad to see the others were unperturbed by Anders emotional swings. Merrill was blushing at a bad hand while Isabela palmed several cards and Varric chuckled, while Aveline was safely oblivious. Fenris twisted in his seat, his shoulder bumping Hawke as he stretched.

"My thinking shouldn't make you sulk so much," Hawke teased.

Anders toasted Hawke in the air a second time to banish his gloom, his lip still poking out petulantly. Licking ale from his mouth, Anders laughed and nodded, kicking Hawke under the table.

“I try to make you relax, and you make it my fault,” Anders scolded. 

“Hawke does that,” Varric reminded, joining them without ceremony. “If she can’t loosen up, _no one_ can.”

“I can loosen up,” Hawke muttered.

“Is that a promise?” Anders asked, smiling broadly at the thought. “Because I’d like to see that.”

“No doubt you would,” Fenris grumbled under his breath, narrowing his eyes testily when Anders scowled at him.

“You and half the maids and men in Kirkwall,” Isabela snickered as she watched them closely, and Merrill giggled obediently after her. 

Hawke laughed because she should, swatting Anders back to his mug and making a rude gesture at Isabela for chipping in. Anders was still smiling, looking at Hawke in a way that made Hawke claustrophobic. Hawke liked seeing Anders smile, but it never lasted long, slipping back into his melancholy as quickly as he flashed a grin. She wished he wouldn’t waste the gesture on her.

“Watch yourself, Blondie,” Varric warned lightly with a knowing look at Hawke out of the corner of his eye. “No one likes the flirt who can’t hold his drink.”

“Not to take home, anyway,” Isabela advised.

“I can’t hold my drink very well either,” Merrill soothed. “But my home isn’t far, if you aren’t feeling well.”

“Thank you,” Anders sighed unhappily at Merrill, earning a glower from Isabela. “I think I just need _more_ to drink.”

“And you ask why I worry about mages,” Fenris spoke in Hawke’s ear.

“I heard that,” Anders accused.

“Good for you,” Fenris praised sarcastically.

“Next round’s on me,” Hawke tried to make amends, flipping a silver to Anders across the table.

Anders caught the coin out of the air, weaving it between his knuckles and pasting on his smile again. Merrill sipped from Isabela’s mug, wrinkling her nose and smacking her lips from the strong taste, mercifully drawing Isabela and Varric’s attention. Anders spun the coin across the table back to Hawke, lounging comfortably without the hassling.

“I’ll take my leave,” Fenris announced, placing his drink between Hawke’s hands to make the spinning coin fall.

“You hardly touched this,” Hawke offered the mug back.

“It was not to my taste. Goodnight,” Fenris nodded to Hawke, paying a passing courtesy to Aveline, Isabela, and Varric as he went.

Varric clicked he tongue in disappointment and Aveline shook her head wearily. Slinking through onlookers, Fenris shouldered open the outside door, ignoring Aveline’s forbidding growl after him. 

“Of course,” Anders grumbled when the door slammed closed, “He hadn’t thrown a tantrum for the whole day, after all.” 

“Perhaps he really was just leaving,” Merrill suggested judiciously. “It _is_ hard to tell…he’s like that most of the time.”

“Let him have his tantrum,” Isabela shrugged. “He’s far more interesting that way.”

“You would think that,” Varris sighed, rising slowly and clinking coins in his palm. “I owe a round or two. Aveline, care to sample something stronger?”

Varric pointed from one member of the company to the other, letting Hawke slip out of her seat beside him. Barking at Anders to get something that would put respectable hair on his chest, Varric captured the room’s attention. Isabela laughed loudly, pinching Hawke’s ass as she passed and elbowing Merrill when the elf threatened to call to Hawke in concern. Joining a stumbling group to the door, Hawke broke into the open air, looking into the dark alleys around the seedy pub.

“Damn it,” Hawke cursed, turning towards the route to Uptown.

The streets were far from abandoned, shadowy figures scuttling about their business between buildings, joined by drunks trying to find their homes. Hawke dodged a couple weaving by, the smell of alcohol roiling off of them. Across a courtyard, a prostitute plied her trade, calling to a passing group of men with sweet promises for low prices. Hawke kept her hand on her dagger, out of sight before someone took it as an invitation.

“Lookie here, boys,” a rough voice drawled. “ A knife ear out of the Alienage. Haven’t they put a curfew on you yet?”

“No,” Fenris informed simply. “I suggest you leave this confrontation while you have the chance.”

Hawke ran to the end of the street, rounding the corner and ducking back at the sight of the gang rallying their numbers. Fenris stood in the center, his hand on the hilt of his blade, crouched in anticipation. The leader of the rabble snickered, eyeing Fenris’ long blade carefully but confidently.

“I don’t think we were asking for your thoughts, elf,” the leader nodded to men in the wings, who readied their bows.

Fenris moved faster than the men around him, lopping off the head of the leader in a neat arc. Spinning his blade, Fenris sprayed blood from three opponents in one swing, ducking under a wild strike in the same motion. Hawke wrenched her bow from her back, sending an arrow to sprout from the neck of an archer leveling his own arrow at Fenris’ head.

Fenris whirled, impaling a charging thug and yanking his blade free, sprinkles of carnage staining his light hair. Following the path of the arrow, Fenris caught sight of Hawke, gritting his teeth and driving his blade into the back of a thug who was turning to flee. 

“Fenris!” Hawke called, loosing a final arrow into the back of a thug in the distance. “Enough!”

Fenris sliced through the air, bringing his sword down with a splattering squelch into the chest of a spasming thug sprawled underfoot. Ignoring Hawke as she approached, Fenris traced his eyes up the length of his sword, scoffing as he mopped the blood off on the pants of the nearest body.

“I had it handled, Hawke,” Fenris advised, flicking gore off his blade before slinging it onto his back.

“I wasn’t going to let you have all the glory,” Hawke retorted. “I need the pay I can get for clearing the streets.”

“And you are welcome to that,” Fenris kicked aside a corpse carelessly. “They were simply in my way.”

Fenris stepped over the bodies, picking filth from his hair as he walked. Giving the bodies a wide berth, Hawke jogged after him. Fenris kept walking steadily, heading for the higher streets without paying a glance to the side streets around him.

“It’s dangerous to walk these streets alone,” Hawke reminded, jacking her thumb over her shoulder as proof. “And there’s plenty to drink back there. Varric’s buying.”

“I have no interest in swilling drinks with the likes of them,” Fenris snorted dismissively. 

“My sister is also ‘one of them,’” Hawke reminded.

“And she is most tolerable,” Fenris complimented. “Still, I would prefer to keep my distance from the mage who can’t keep hold of his tongue, let alone his mind, and Isabela’s precious pet.”

“Merrill and Isabela are just friends,” Hawke balked at the idea of anything more.

“She hasn’t bedded her and calls her ‘Kitten,’” Fenris scoffed at the nickname. “I thought the comparison to a pet very apt.”

“Isabela is simply fond of her,” Hawke insisted, privately impressed that Isabela had never approached Merrill even in jest.

“I have no doubt. That’s generally why people keep pets,” Fenris quipped.

Hawke saw a crack in the glare as Fenris smirked to himself. Fenris turned to gauge Hawke’s reaction, the smirk stretching into a triumphant smile when Hawke failed to offer a retort. Hawke had to smile back in silent concession, thinking of Isabela’s doting while Merrill followed her adoringly. Instead of gloating, Fenris’ smile faltered, sliding off to resume a stern line.

“Nevertheless, I have no desire to listen to their ramblings tonight,” Fenris punctuated his mockery shortly.

“So you’re picking fights with the locals?” Hawke asked doubtfully.

“I just want to go home,” Fenris waved his hand back down the street. “You are welcome to do the same, or go back to your…petty amusements.”

Fenris coughed, looking surprised to find Hawke still beside him as he climbed the crumbling stairs. Hawke kept in step, watching the drops of blood congeal on his armor from the skirmish. She couldn’t fault Fenris for his targets, but the elf called enough attention to himself without the addition of bloodstains. Fenris caught her looking, rubbing his armor clean and brushing his fingers off against the wall, looking sideways to see if Hawke was appeased.

“Petty amusements?” Hawke tried to tease. “That’s the idea of having the night off.”

“So I’ve been told,” Fenris murmured, drifting away from Hawke. “Please, don’t let me interfere.”

“You aren’t interfering,” Hawke laughed the concern away. “Isabela says you improve the scenery.”

“I’m sure she will find someone else to satisfy her discerning taste,” Fenris shrugged.

“Varric’s appalled that you wasted good ale.”

“Perhaps the dwarf needs a reminder of what ‘good ale’ is.”

“Aveline wanted to make sure you weren’t doing anything to complicate her patrols,” Hawke pointed to the pile of dead bodies Fenris had left behind them.

“And that is a _pathetic_ lie,” Fenris’ shoulders shook from a short laugh, “Aveline wouldn’t send you as a messenger, she will reprimand me personally later. And enjoy doing so, I expect.”

Fenris chuckled at the idea, brushing off his hands and turning to cut through a narrow alley. Hawke stayed close behind, ducking to Fenris’ right side when he glanced for her over his left shoulder. Turning back to find Hawke still beside him, Fenris sighed.

“Do you intend to escort me to my front door?” Fenris asked conversationally. 

“I live in Hightown,” Hawke reminded. “Should I take a different route?”

“No,” Fenris admitted. “I was not…I was not expecting company.”

“You seemed upset,’” Hawke admitted. “I thought you might like to talk to a friend, instead of passing criminals.”

“I do not need to talk,” Fenris backed himself against the nearest building. “Perhaps the mage will be more receptive.”

Fenris studied his gauntlets, looking at Hawke out from under his bangs while Hawke smothered a flare of frustration for Fenris’ short temper. She had given up trying to make peace between Anders and Fenris, settling for them keeping their venomous bickering to themselves, but the constant tension was tiring. Thank the Maker Merrill rarely picked fights with either of them. Fenris showed a sliver of guilt when Hawke failed to catch an exasperated sigh, relaxing his posture to a slouch, his eyes shining softly.

“You are too hard on Anders,” Hawke scolded. “Mage or no, his life isn’t easy.”

“‘Mage or no?’” Fenris snorted, kicking at the ground. “Forgive me, I wasn’t aware anyone opened their body to a demon so willingly.”

“Spirit,” Hawke corrected.

“Now you sound like Merrill,” Fenris warned scornfully. “Even she isn’t so naive anymore.”

“Anders isn’t going to get drunk and become an abomination,” Hawke ignored Fenris’ dismissal of Merrill. “He was simply trying to have a good time.”

“Indeed,” Fenris jerked his chin to point at the street they had come down. 

Fenris pushed himself up, kicking up loose dirt as he marched away, leaving Hawke to address a bare wall. Sympathetic frustration gave way to annoyance as Hawke watched Fenris stalk away, catching sharp whispers Fenris didn’t keep under his breath.

“Is that why you left?” Hawke shrugged her arms at the surrounding streets. “This rivalry between you two is getting tedious.”

“It is not a _rivalry_ ,” Fenris laughed coldly. “I don’t need to compete with the Abomination for attention.”

“I’m sure leaving just as Anders sat down is a coincidence, then,” Hawke retorted wearily.

Fenris stopped walking, turning on his heel and striding back to Hawke, stopping a foot in front of her and staring at her directly. He still had blood smeared across his cheek. Running his gaze over Hawke, Fenris asking in weary resignation, “What do you _want,_ Hawke? I did not ask for an attendant.”

“I don’t _want_ anything. You’ve been…quieter than usual lately, and you rarely turn Varric down for cards,” Hawke informed, taking a step back when Fenris peered at her face for answers. “I was concerned.”

“I didn’t ask for that, either.”

Fenris dropped his gaze, scorching the ground between Hawke’s feet with his stare as a glow rippled over his skin. Fenris’ eyes darted over the ground, and he backed away as the glow faded, dragging his feet softly without looking at her. His annoyed air had faded, replaced by a dull brooding silence that bordered on remorseful.

“Than I’m sorry,” Hawke caught herself as her foot slipped backwards on the staircase.

“You’re _sorry_?” Fenris asked incredulously, looking down to study Hawke from the top of the staircase, knitting his brows in annoyance. “I don’t-“

“Yes. I shouldn’t have…pestered,” Hawke admitted. “I’m sure you can see yourself safely home.”

Fenris tilted his head, regarding Hawke from above, his scowl deepening as he thought.His foot dangled from the stairs, his toes stretching towards the lower step while he leaned back, staying above Hawke.

“I don’t need your pity,” Fenris proclaimed.

“I wasn’t giving it to you,” Hawke assured, meeting Fenris’ questioning stare. “I’m not foolish enough to think you need it.”

Fenris snorted at the idea, his mouth jerking up at the corner before sinking back into a serious line. Hawke adjusted her bow on her back as Fenris descended the stairs, looking down at her without speaking. He looked pained, the glow still fading from the flare of his scars. 

“How do you manage to make things…difficult?” Fenris asked softly, the sharp lines at the corners of his mouth softening.

Fenris watched Hawke for a reaction, his gauntlets clicking as his hands twitched. Hawke stayed silent, wondering where she had overstepped to make Fenris this ill at ease. Fenris was tense, trying to hide it in pacing slowly as he waited for her response. 

“I was trying to do the opposite,” Hawke admitted.

“I know,” Fenris observed wryly, approaching a smile. “That does not make it easier.”

Lifting his head from the ground, Fenris stopped in front of Hawke, his eyes still shining above the smudge of blood on his cheek. He had drifted closer as he paced, toe to toe with Hawke in the shadow of the buildings, with only the shouts of drunks, prostitutes, thugs, and their victims breaking the silence. He was too close, Hawke told herself to step away, before she did something else to regret.

“Well, then I’m _extremely_ sorry,“ Hawke began with weak sarcasm, that she heard die before she could finish the sentence.

“Stop,” Fenris ordered softly, clenching his hands and straightening his back. “I don’t need, I do not _want_ you to be **_sorry_** _,_ I…”

Fenris’ hand lashed forward, brushing Hawke’s cheek the instant before she leaned back in surprise at the sudden motion. Fenris froze, and Hawke tried to mask the startled twitch, hastily leaning forward to compensate. Fenris jerked away,the marks on his skin standing out harshly in the low light and his lips turning white as he clamped his jaw shut.

“I’m still on edge from the fight back there,” Hawke tried to laugh when Fenris shrank towards the stairs. “Damn gangs, what…what were you saying?”

Fenris’ knuckles popped at his side, his face a mask of pain and disappointment. The last trace of his defensive glower and reluctant smirk had disappeared. Now he was hunched, his shoulders falling forward as he slunk backwards.

“This was a mistake,” Fenris’ voice shook, his feet scuffing over the ground softly and his head bowing until his chin touched his chest. “Go back to the others, Hawke, and…forgive me for…goodnight.”

“Wait-“ Hawke reached for Fenris’ arm, hovering above the tattoos uncertainly. 

Fenris ducked away, his blade rattling on his back as he briskly climbed the stairs, turning into the first narrow street. Hawke started after him, reaching the top of the stairs just as Fenris disappeared into another narrow alley. Hawke jogged after him, watching Fenris’ shadow flit away just before she reached it. Tripping over a pile of abandoned crates, Hawke shouted a curse over her bruised shin and the empty street. Kicking over the nearest crate, Hawke bellowed “Fenris!”, earning an equally exasperated “Shut your hole!” from the window above her.

Limping towards the nearest set of stairs, Hawke sat down on the first step, rolling up her torn trouser leg to reveal a leaking gash feeding rivers of blood into her boot. A split second and a thoughtless muscle twitch, that was all it had taken. And now Fenris was fleeing to Maker knows where, and Hawke had ruined another pair of trousers.

Standing despite her throbbing leg, Hawke calculated the number of stairs she had to climb, cursing to herself as she turned back to the lower streets. The leg would bend, with protest, but by the time Hawke had hobbled to The Hanged Man, her leg was stiff with blood. Hopping through the door, Hawke saw the sympathy on Varric’s face when he caught sight of her first, quickly followed suit by a gasp from Merrill and a duet of displeased shouts from Anders and Aveline. 

“What on earth happened?” Merrill scurried to hook her arm under Hawke’s shoulder in a makeshift crutch. “Isabela, help!”

“You’re doing very well,” Isabela praised from her seat, kicking a stool out for Hawke to sit on.

“How do you manage this?” Anders lamented, helping Merrill settle Hawk and kneeling down to inspect the wound. 

“Did you find Fenris?” Varric asked, twirling a crossbow bolt between his fingers to prove his disinterest as he pinned Hawke with his gaze.

“Some thugs jumped us,” Hawke yelped from Anders’ prodding. “Fenris and I took care of them.”

“You get to have all the fun,” Isabela sighed wistfully, offering Hawke Fenris’ mug and helping herself when Hawke waved it away.

“And yet, the elf is nowhere to be found,” Anders noticed critically, wiping off his hands. 

“Is he hurt? Should we go look for him?” Aveline asked all too readily. 

“Fenris is a _very_ capable elf,” Isabela assured, eyeing Hawke from over her drink. “I’m sure he can take care of himself.”

“Better than most, when he feels like it,” Varric agreed, coming to join the cluster around Hawke and admire her injury. “Well, it could have been bigger.”

“I tripped over a crate,” Hawke admitted through gritted teeth as Anders wiped blood away with an arguable clean rag.

“I’ll think of something better,” Varric chuckled, placing a steady hand on Hawke’s arm to mask her wince. “And Fenris?”

“Home,” Hawke kicked out against Anders’ brushes. “I think.”

“Running, as usual,” Anders grumbled, a soft glow climbing his fingers as he cradled Hawke’s leg. “Good riddance.”

A soothing cool spread over Hawke’s shin, radiating out from Anders’ warm palms. The skin around the gash melted together, shining clean and new under the bloodstains. Brushing his thumbs over the leg carefully, Anders nodded in satisfaction.

“Sit for a bit, give that time to keep from reopening. Nothing I can do about the trousers, I’m afraid,” Anders stood up, crossing his arms to consider Hawke. “Are you sure that’s all? You look…feverish.”

“Are you this stupid because you grew up in the tower?” Isabela asked, kicking Anders in his ass.

“Ow!” Anders jumped away, clutching his posterior. “Isabela!”

“Huh. Bonier than I expected,” Isabela observed with another kick, snickering smugly at Anders offended yowl. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Merrill asked Hawke, craning to look at the healed leg. “You do look bit peaky, do you need some water?”

Hawke nodded to keep Merrill from hovering, propping her leg against the table. Varric twitched her trouser leg over the healed cut, watching Aveline push Isabela and Anders apart when their squabble knocked over a chair. Merrill nudged a glass towards Hawke, watched nervously as Hawke sipped it and forced herself to drink slowly. Varric swirled his drink in a rare silence, calling to Merrill for a second glass when Hawke finished the first.

“Nothing you can do now,” Varric advised. “Better to let the elf work through whatever he put into his own head before you try.”

“He’s a _man_ ,” Isabela reminded confidently. “Let him go bluster and he’ll come running back on his own. Trust me.”

Isabela nodded certainly at Hawke before pecking her on the cheek, and Hawke obediently drank beside Varric, doubting either suggestion would help. Fenris rarely let himself look vulnerable, masking it with anger or curt comments. Drawing away from Hawke, he had looked frightened before fleeing into the night. Varric tried to distract her with a game of cards, tossing the cards aside in defeat as soon as Hawke had drained her second mug of water.

“You going to be alright?” Varric asked, beckoning Aveline over.

“Fine. Just…tired,” Hawke admitted, flexing her ankle before standing up. “I think I’ll head home, now that I can conquer the stairs.”

“It is late,” Aveline agreed quickly. “I should be getting back, Donnic will be expecting me.”

“Aaaaw,” Merrill sighed happily, distracted from Hawke’s discomfort. “Adorable.”

“Come on, Daisy, let’s get you home,” Varric slung Bianca onto his back. 

“I can go by myself,” Merrill shrugged.

“Oh, I know,” Varric assured, motioning Merrill towards the door. “Call me a gentleman.”

“Skinflint,” Isabela called from across the room.

“Go back to kicking Blondie’s ass,” Varric retorted, waiting for Hawke to join them. 

Hawke walked gingerly, straightening her stride when her leg didn’t even twinge from the pressure. Anders dodged another kick as he passed Isabela, trotting to join the others until they scattered to their homes, splitting to Darktown. Varric threw Hawke and Aveline a salute, calling, “Good luck! Aveline, have mercy on the poor man!”

“He is strange, even for a dwarf,” Aveline observed.

“Hm,” Hawke grunted, starting the long climb home.

Aveline had the charity or disinterest to keep quiet for the walk home. Or perhaps she was too busy looking for trouble on every street, Hawke wasn’t going to ask. Hawke steered her away from the bodies, relief mixing with discomfort as they crossed the quarters in Hightown. Fenris’ mansion was not far, it would be easy to check without Aveline taking note. Thinking of Fenris’ large eyes as he took his hand away and disappeared into the alleys, Hawke kept walking, crossing her arms against the jab in her chest and the pit of her stomach.

Aveline snatched her sword in surprise at the sound of footsteps, exhaling sharply and snapping, “About time you came back…next time, do it without slinking like a common thief.”

“Apologies, Aveline. I wasn’t aware my walk was so offensive,” Fenris appeared from the shadows of the courtyard, his bloodied armor exchanged for a soft tunic while his sword still hung from his shoulders.

“That is not what I meant. Your neighbors might take notice,” Aveline shoved her sword away. “You could have at least seen Hawke-“

“I hardly need an entourage,” Hawke interrupted, elbowing Aveline to stop talking.

Fenris frowned thoughtfully, and Aveline drew herself up, looking between Fenris and Hawke suspiciously for their shared insolence. Fenris chuckled smoothly when Aveline turned on him, bargaining, “I will endeavor to make amends by relieving you of your escort duties. There’s still a foot to Hawke's door, after all.”

Aveline cleared her throat unhappily at Fenris, nodding to Hawke and muttering, “You are _both_ impossible.”

“I will take that as a compliment,” Fenris replied.

“Of course you will,” Aveline groaned, waving over her shoulder and calling. “Thank you, for saving my guards work. Don’t make more.”

Fenris grunted away the backhanded warning, glancing at Hawke with a glint of triumph. The spark died as soon as Aveline left the courtyard, leaving Fenris still and silent. Fenris’ eyes widened when he saw the tattered trouser leg, watching carefully as Hawke swung it out of sight too late.

“Are you alright?” Fenris asked, his question vibrating. “I didn’t see that, I should not have left you injured.”

“Just a scratch,” Hawke nodded, cuffing dirt off her pants. “I tripped over a crate going back to the pub, you wouldn’t have seen it. ”

Fenris raised his eyebrows, palpably incredulous as he leaned to look at the cut until Hawke held her leg straight. Hawke saw his mouth bunch for an instant when he glimpsed the freshly healed skin, but Fenris he bowed his head, his fingers tapping against themselves.

“Would you like to come in?” Hawke gestured to the door, the knots in her stomach unwinding the longer Fenris stood still. Fenris jumped as if startled, and Hawke hastily added, “I’d like to sit down, and you did promise Aveline.”

Fenris pressed his lips together, his hands tugging at the bottom of his jacket sharply. Dragging his eyes up from examining Hawke’s leg, Fenris admitted, “Perhaps that would be best.”

“Of course,” Hawke pushed the door open.

Fenris eyebrows jumped again, surprise flashing across his face before Hawke held the door open. Stepping aside to let Fenris pass, Hawke relaxed a fraction when Fenris crept in, entering the front hall as if afraid it would spit him out despite his frequent visits.

Hawke swung her bow and quiver off her shoulder, rubbing her neck to loosen the stiff muscles before unbuckling her leather breastplate. Fenris took shelter by the fireplace, poking the glowing coals the servants had left to life. Tugging off her boots, Hawke saw Fenris watching, measuring her steps until she had sat down.

“It was a scratch,” Hawke swung the leg carelessly to prove it was pain free, pulling up her pant leg past the undetectable scrap. “I’ve cut myself worse cleaning my blades.”

“Perhaps you should clean them more carefully?” Fenris asked, his voice snapping when he tried to sound amused.

“And not punt crates in the dark,” Hawke agreed, pointing to the chair across from her. “You can sit.”

“Thank you…no, this will not take long,” Fenris traced the grain of the mantelpiece, frowning to himself. Dropping hand, Fenris came to stand in front of Hawke, his hands firmly at his sides. “I apologize, for tonight. I was presumptuous, it will not happen again.”

Fenris bowed sharply, keeping his chin down to study Hawke. Fenris was soft and subdued, no sharp anger or energy behind his words. He was confusing Hawke, shifting uneasily while Hawke considered his apology.

“Presumptuous? I don’t understand,” Hawke admitted, pointing to the chair with her foot as another invitation. 

Fenris wandered towards the chair, running his hand over the back and stopping on the far side. The soft cushion dented under his grip, mussed points from his finger tips marring the upholstery when Fenris pushed himself upright.

“Is this about the fight?” Hawke tried to laugh, trailing off in response to Fenris’ stiffened posture. “I followed _you_ , I clear those gangs for pocket change.”

“I’m not talking about the gang,” Fenris knit his brows at Hawke’s deflection. “I should not have…confronted you, afterwards.” 

Fenris’ eyes narrowed just enough for Hawke to see before he ducked his head, reaching to ensure that his sword was at his back. Running his hand over the hilt, Fenris forced himself to stand straight with Hawke watching.

“Are you talking about after the fight?” Hawke asked, wishing that Fenris would sit. “I was still jumpy after getting jumped. We all know that feeling.”

“Perhaps,” Fenris admitted. “Still, I should not have put you in that position. I apologize.”

Fenris exhaled sharply, looking upward to study the wall above the fireplace instead of the floor. Hawke saw his throat shiver as he swallowed something back, his hands clasping the chair.

“What were you going to say?” Hawke asked, adding when Fenris’ foot pointed to the door. “In the alley, before. You were going to say something.”

Fenris’ eyes flickered, his grim expectation faltering. Shaking his head, Fenris assured, “Nothing.”

“You were saying something,” Hawke informed.

Fenris sighed sharply, muttering, “You shouldn’t try to take on all my troubles, Hawke.”

“Just ones that concern me, perhaps,” Hawke bargained. “I’d rather we talk here, instead of waking up everyone in Lowtown.”

Fenris raised his head, blinking to find Hawke looking at him, but finally holding her gaze. The corner of his mouth twitched, and Hawke smothered a groan of relief as he stopped leaning towards the door, staring into the fire as he thought. Curling into her chair, Hawke leaned her chin in her hand, alternating between observing Fenris and the fire.

“We have never discussed what happened between us three years ago,” Fenris murmured.Hawke expected more, shifting in her seat when Fenris turned back to her with the same pained look from the alley.

“You didn’t want to talk about it, I thought it better not to ask,” Hawke reminded softly. “And once you and Isabela…well, I thought it was better to keep it that way.”

"Ah...yes..." Fenris tapped his toes against the floor, explaining slowly, “Isabela was, _is_ a good friend, and a welcomed…companion. But Isabela is, was…hm….”

“Isabela?” Hawke finished knowingly when Fenris’ words petered out, smiling in spite of herself at Isabela’s simultaneously notorious and beloved reputation. Isabela liked a distraction from the disasters around her, and she was only too happy to distract at least one friend or acquaintance in the process.

“Yes,” Fenris nodded in affirmation, concluding fondly, “Never anything less. But nothing more, we both knew that. ” 

Fenris leaned on his hand, rubbing his forehead in thought and looking uncertain. Hawke picked at a blood spot on her trousers to keep from fidgeting. It had never been a secret that neither of them had wallowed in celibacy for three years. Hawke had tried to keep her fling with the guard discreet, but avoiding Isabela and Fenris was another matter. It was difficult to be jealous of Isabela. Not impossible, Hawke admitted to herself, but Isabela was too unapologetically prolific to take it personally. She had cheerfully offered Hawke a tumble or two to cheer her up only last week. Hawke might have taken the offer, too, if she hadn’t been worried about Fenris.

“Is that what you were talking about?In the alley?” Hawke asked, revising quickly, “What happened three years ago?”

Fenris’ chin dipped down, a reluctant admission. 

“I felt like a fool. I thought it better if you hated me,” Fenris’ voice shook wrathfully. “But it isn’t better.”

“I don’t hate you,” Hawke pointed out. 

“I would have deserved no less,” Fenris insisted, but he nodded in concession. “You have been a good friend, a better friend than I ever thought I would find in this place. I never wanted to risk that.”

“But that night…I remember your touch as if it were yesterday,” Fenris pushed himself away from the chair, standing above Hawke. “I should have asked your forgiveness long ago. I hope you can forgive me now.”

Fenris waited patiently, quietly anticipating Hawke’s answer. Hawke felt her chest ache, watching Fenris ask for forgiveness where she should be doing it instead. She had been so relieved back then to find Fenris still with them in the morning, she hadn’t tried to force an apology on him, but the thought had stayed over the years; if she had followed him, or tried to make amends sooner, things might have been different.

“I was going to ask the same to you,” Hawke admitted, standing with Fenris when she saw him flinch. “I should have realized something was wrong.“

“You do not need to ask forgiveness,” Fenris corrected firmly. “You were not responsible for what happened, do not apologize.”

“Then I need to understand why you left, Fenris,” Hawke admitted. 

Fenris hesitated, shifting his weight back unhappily. The tattoos on his chin and throat stretched as he tilted his head, contemplating Hawke’s question.

“I’ve thought about the answer a thousand times,” Fenris turned back to study the fire. “The pain, the memories it brought up, it was too much. I needed time, and then, it seemed…too late.”

“Have they gotten any better? The memories?” Hawke asked when Fenris paused.

“Yes. And no,” Fenris sighed. “I am free, Danarius’ body is rotting, my sister is gone, and I finally know who I was. But memories of who I was cannot change what, who, I am now. Still, I can move forward.”

“Back then, I was a coward, trying to outrun everything,” Fenris sneered. “If I could go back, I would stay. Tell you how I felt.”

Fenris’ voice crackled as he said it, raw with disappointment. Hawke hated that sound, of Fenris condemning his perceived weakness as harshly as he did Anders’ or Merrill’s. Fenris fingers ground against the wood of the mantelpiece, his jaw firmly clenched.

“What would you have said?” Hawke asked.

Fenris jerked out of his grim thoughts, the resolved expression softening when he looked at Hawke, broken by a sad smile that the flickering shadows almost masked. 

“That…nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you.”

Fenris’ smile slipped away, remorse making his eyes dark. Fenris’ eyes followed Hawke carefully as she rose from her seat, coming to join him by the fire. The words sank in, painful and comforting, settling into the pit of Hawke’s stomach. She shouldn’t get her hopes up, dwelling on the past.

“And now?” Hawke heard herself ask. “Anything you would say now?”

Fenris’ eyes flicked over Hawke’s face, wary and and hopeful in equal measure. As he shuffled an almost imperceptible step forward, Hawke caught a glimpse of a genuine smile tugging at the corner of Fenris’ mouth.

“That it hasn’t changed,” Fenris murmured. “And if there is a future to be had, I will walk into it gladly at your side.”

Hawke surprised herself when a soft laugh escaped from her at the idea of anything else. Closing the space of fireplace between them with another step, Hawke teased gently, “Than stay.”

Fenris pulled Hawke to him, stroking his thumb over her cheek as their lips met. Hawke twined her fingers in the straps of his sword’s sheathe that crossed over his chest. Three years and the silence from the alley burst, Fenris’ callused hands gripping Hawke strongly, his chest shuddering under her hands as she unbuckled his sword. Fenris caught the trailing straps, throwing the blade to join Hawke’s weapons by the door and dragging her towards the stairs.

Fenris grunted as their feet tangled and caused them to trip, sending him crashing back against the wall. Hawke felt his muscles spasm, loosening her grip on his shirt and looking to see his scars.

“Are you-“

“I am more concerned for your wall,” Fenris promised, tipping her chin up to capture her mouth in a savage kiss.

Hawke hummed affirmation, struggling to walk backwards up stairs and stay in Fenris’ arms at the same time. This was like the first night- desperate, Fenris clutching her to him or her clinging to him, she couldn’t tell. 

“Are you particularly fond of this shirt?” Fenris asked, plucking at Hawke’s simple tunic.

“No.”

“Excellent.”

Fenris tore at the buttons, popping the last two in his haste and dropping the shirt as they walked. Catching them on the wall when they tripped again, Hawke tugged Fenris too a stop, struggling to catch her breath and kiss him at the same time.

“Are you particularly fond of this shirt?” Hawke grinned when Fenris chuckled.

“I am, in fact, ” Fenris smirked, pinning Hawke to the wall and pushing his leg between hers to keep her there.

“Well, that’s unfair,” Hawke feigned a pout, unhooking the buttons slowly and smiling when Fenris quickly undid the last two buttons himself.

Fenris rumbled wordlessly, bending to kiss Hawke’s neck and shrugging his shoulders to shed the shirt as Hawke pushed it off. Fenris’ shoulders shivered when Hawke touched them, making the tattoos ripple against her light fingers. Fenris rasped something, straightening up when Hawke pushed him away gently.

“We don’t have to do this,” Hawke advised, cupping Fenris’ face when he pulled away slightly. “You can stay, without this.”

“Is that what you want?” Fenris asked, loosening his hold and looking to Hawke’s abandoned shirt.

“Is that what _you_ want?” Hawke asked, wrapping her arms around Fenris’ waist. “Staying…it doesn’t have to mean sex.”

Fenris frowned, stroking his fingers through Hawke’s hair as he thought. He was still close, his chest pushing against Hawke’s as they breathed, his legs entwined with hers as he embraced her in the middle of the corridor.

“No, it does not. Though, I would not object if it did,” Fenris admitted. “But, if you wish to stop…”

“No, it’s not that, if you’re sure, but-“

“I have wanted to hold you in my arms again for three years,” Fenris assured, kissing Hawke harder when her weak ramblings stopped. “So, yes, Hawke, I am sure.”

Fenris’ hand brushed down Hawke’s cheek, sliding to Hawke’s neck as she leaned in to kiss him slowly. Fenris sighed, the muscles in his shoulders uncoiling. Hawke smiled, tightening her arm around Fenris’ back.

“Than get me out of these trousers,” Hawke nodded. “Though, perhaps not in the hallway.”

Fenris’ chuckle vibrated between them, muted by Hawke’s firm kiss. Pushing them away from the wall, Hawke groped for the door handle, laughing when Fenris beat her to it, kicking the door open. Pushing Fenris to the bed, Hawke yelped as Fenris pulled her with him as they fell. Landing with a thump against the mattress, Fenris rolled in the same motion, flipping Hawke under him.

Fenris kissed Hawke while she was still laughing, dragging her to the end of the bed by her legs. Leaning down, Fenris placed his hands on Hawke’s hips, pinning her against the bed. Hawke struggled to stay still, whimpering softly. 

Hawke felt Fenris smile against her skin when she arched against him. Sucking her collarbone, Fenris yanked the waistband of Hawke’s trousers, pulling them off her feet as Hawke kicked desperately against the tangled legs. Stroking his hand up Hawke’s leg, Fenris brushed his lips over the patch of fresh skin as he pulled at her underclothes.

“I wanted to kiss you, in that alley,” Fenris informed, widening Hawke’s legs as he kissed up past her knee.

“I wanted to kiss you at the Hanged Man,” Hawke countered, shivering desperately as Fenris’ kisses climbed. “And after the fight, I wanted…wanted…fuck.”

Hawke lost her train of thought as Fenris’ mouth hit its mark, fresh heat joining the warm dampness between Hawke’s legs. Fenris was more skilled than before, Hawke marveled, a new wave of pleasure crashing over her with every flick of his tongue. Fenris’ strong hands gripped her hips when they jumped, his thumbs pressed into her belly and fingers into her back as Hawke shouted and twisted. Dragging Fenris’ hands to her unattended breasts, Hawke craned to feel more of him, arching against his hands and eager mouth.

“Maker’s breath, Fenris,” Hawke moaned as her orgasm rippled through her, releasing Fenris’ hands so they could steady her shaking legs. 

“Is that what you wanted?” Fenris asked sardonically, wiping off his mouth and leaving a hickey on Hawke’s leg.

“Not…not _specifically_ …” Hawke panted, looking down to see Fenris prop his chin on her stomach. “But it would have been if I’d known it was an option.”

“Did you have a request?” Fenris asked, chuckling when Hawke sighed in content.

Hawke sat up, yanking Fenris back towards her by his belt. Letting Fenris unbuckle his pants and step out of them, Hawke traced the pale tattoos branching out around Fenris’ torso and legs. It felt wrong that she could still remember them exactly, following the curve of Fenris hips before wrapping down between his legs, the marks of Fenris’ pain and power. It felt wrong that she was glad she didn’t have to pretend to forget them anymore.

Kissing Fenris in the patch of smooth skin under his navel, Hawke reveled in his rough rasp that morphed into a groan when Hawke kissed lower. Taking his cock in her mouth, Hawke felt the muscles in his legs twitch. Fenris’ pushed back her hair, following the curve of her ear, tugging slightly as stroked his shaft. His skin was warm, his feet shifting and his breath quickening under Hawke’s treatment. 

Fenris’ hand traveled to under her jaw, letting Hawke press a kiss to the smooth skin before he tipped her chin up. Kissing Hawke hard, Fenris scooped her up, tossing her into the center of the bed. 

“I wasn’t finished,” Hawke teased.

“I have other things in mind,” Fenris informed, crawling over her. 

Fenris pulled Hawke against him, thrusting into her, leaving Hawke breathless. Fenris kissed her, his fingers tangling in her hair and his hips rolling forward until the points brushed her legs. Hawke opened her mouth, Fenris’ name becoming a wordless cry. Wrapping her arms around Fenris, Hawke shook, keeping her hands flat against Fenris’ back, his muscles seeming to hum under her fingers. Hawke ran her hands down to his lower back, lifting her hands when Fenris groaned.

“I am not made out of glass, Hawke,” Fenris promised, teasing Hawke’s breast with his teeth. “I will not shatter.”

Hawke dug her fingertips into Fenris’ lower back, clasping Fenris into her, forgetting to worry about the years in between or what might happen afterwards as Fenris filled her, forcing Hawke back to the bed with his next thrust. Pulling Fenris to kiss her, Hawke wondered how she could still want more of him.

“I want to hear what you wanted,” Fenris gasped into her neck. “I want to hear what you wanted, after the fight.”

“I don’t know,” Hawke admitted, squeezing Fenris with her legs. “I just…didn’t want you to leave like that. It doesn’t matter now.”

Fenris kissed Hawke savagely, moaning and tearing into her mouth with a hunger that matched Hawke’s, pushing her to the brink of another orgasm. 

“I’m not leaving,” Fenris assured, his words rough and desperate.

“Thank the Maker,” Hawke laughed, glad to see Fenris smile.

Hawke wiggled under Fenris, kissing his chest and neck, feeling his throat buzz as he shouted, crumpling the sheets in his hand. Hawke’s muscles tightened at the fresh warmth between her legs, Fenris’ arms shaking over her as his orgasm hit. Hawke’s second orgasm left her unwound, her muscles going weak as Fenris sank over her, staying in her arms. They were covered in sweat, the sheets sticking to Hawke’s back as she rolled onto her side with Fenris.

Fenris stared up at Hawke’s ceiling as he caught his breath, his chest heaving under her arm. His arm was still around her, tracing patterns on her back aimlessly. Through the tingles of satisfaction, Hawke felt her worry return as she watched Fenris close his eyes and breathe shakily. She should have been more careful, they should have waited now that the air was clear, before they moved too fast again.

“Do you need…” Hawke couldn’t finish the question, drawing her hand away as Fenris’ tattoos flared.

“No,” Fenris grabbed her hand, holding it to his chest. “No, it’s fine.”

Fenris opened his eyes, looking at Hawke quickly, slowing his breathing as she watched. Hawke didn’t dare speak, trying to relax when Fenris’ arm tightened around her, drawing her to his chest. She could feel his heart humming, closing her eyes when Fenris shifted under her cheek.

“I’m sorry,” Fenris said softly. “It’s not…I’m alright.”

Hawke nodded, lying in silence as she felt Fenris’ skin cool and his pulse climb down. Fenris exhaled sharply, sitting up and leaning on his knees at the edge of the bed. Wiping his face, Fenris looked over his shoulder at Hawke, reaching for her and stroking her cheek. Hawke sat up, waiting for Fenris to lean in before she kissed him, relieved when Fenris’ kiss was steady. 

“Is there something…do you want me to get you something?” Hawke asked, hating herself for the stupid question.

“No,” Fenris’ thumb rubbed her cheek. “It’s not you. The memories sometimes resurface, it can be…uncomfortable.”

“I’m sorry,” Hawke said, remembering Fenris’ reprimand from the alley too late. “I mean, if you need to be alone-“

“Don’t apologize,” Fenris shook his head, pulling Hawke into his arms and embracing her. “The past doesn’t control me anymore. I just need a moment.”

Fenris kissed Hawke gently, then leaned against Hawke’s chest. Hawke risked resting her hand on Fenris’ shoulder. Fenris closed his eyes again, breathing slowly for several minutes while Hawke waited for a cue from him. Hawke lost some of her worry when Fenris kissed her, rolling them back into bed. He looked calm, smiling when Hawke sighed without thinking and pecking her on the lips lightly.

“Your touch has become more…insistent,” Fenris observed with a satisfied expression.

“Well…” Hawke laughed, admitting, “I assumed Isabela would have brought out ropes by now, I thought I’d compensate with…enthusiasm.”

Fenris looked surprised, laughing softly when Hawke blushed at the thought of ever coming close to Isabela’s enthusiasm for sex either. Isabela had obviously taught Fenris some new talents in their time together. Hawke couldn’t exactly complain, but she also couldn’t hope to learn all of Isabela’s skills in one night. Or ever.

“No doubt she would have tried,” Fenris chuckled. “But I didn’t come here for that. I came here for you.”

Fenris tapped the corners of Hawke’s mouth to get her to smile, refusing to let her worry as he cradled her to his chest. Breaking off the kiss, Fenris practically grinned as he added, “We can talk about ropes later, if you wish, I admit I came unprepared.”

“Shut up,” Hawke groused, shoving Fenris for laughing and retorting, “Maybe I’ll just have to get Isabela to show me how it’s done.”

In spite of herself, Hawke had to laugh at the look on Fenris’ face, a mix of incredulity and intrigue that left him looking baffled. Fenris tried to hide his look of interest by kissing Hawke’s breast, but Hawke felt him squirm. Well, who hadn’t thought about bedding Isabela? Hawke reasoned unhappily, kicking down a twinge of jealousy. Hawke was starting to feel left out.

Fenris felt Hawke fidget at her conflicting thoughts, stroking her back admitting carefully, “I am sure Isabela would not be against the idea, if you asked. She considered asking you to join us.”

“Really?” Hawke’s mouth got ahead of itself.

“It was discussed,” Fenris nodded, adding, “Some months ago, I’m unsure if her opinion has changed.”

“‘Some months ago?’ Include me ‘some months ago?” Hawke quoted, feeling better when Fenris cleared his throat bashfully.“ _She_ wanted to offer months ago?”

“She…encouraged me to discuss it with you, if I wanted,” Fenris admitted to Hawke’s chest, adding quickly, “Not that I didn’t want to, but I considered that…”

“Presumptuous?” Hawke felt her jealousy start to lose out to interest that Fenris and Isabela had been considering her.

“To understate the matter, yes,” Fenris nodded.

Hawke had to giggle at seeing Fenris’ considering the idea with great contemplation while leaning into her breasts. Fenris jerked his head up, looking relieved when he realized Hawke was trying not to laugh. Hawke twined her legs around Fenris’, admitting slowly, “I wish you had told me.”

Fenris lay his head against Hawke’s chest, stroking his thumb over her rib cage pensively.

“I do as well,” Fenris replied softly, mumbling the words against her.

Hawke wished she had known, instead of trying to sort her feelings when Fenris and Isabela had gone their separate ways as quickly as they had been caught in a dark corner of the Hanged Man and Fenris had descended into a perpetual gloom. The idea that Isabela had made a bid on her behalf was gratifying, to say the least. It was nice to know Fenris had been thinking of her, too, Hawke admitted as she quelled her last skewer of jealousy.

Fenris gulped, glancing up at Hawke nervously when she sighed. Catching Hawke’s hand, Fenris kissed her finger tips, holding her hand to his mouth. Scooting down to be level with Fenris, Hawke let the idea settle, admitting, “For now, I just…want it to be us.”

“I had no plans to involve the others,” Fenris pointed out, kissing Hawke’s hair, forehead, nose and lips. “I enjoy having you to myself, Hawke.”

Fenris smiled as he said it, but looked serious as soon as he stopped talking. He next kiss was slow, almost heavy as he gripped Hawke, wiping away her embarrassment. Kissing Hawke’s hand, Fenris settled back in the covers, making himself comfortable in bed beside her. Turning onto his side, Fenris snuggled into his pillow, murmuring, “We should have done this sooner. It was…more than I hoped for.”

Wiggling over to be closer, Hawke took Fenris’ hand. Three years was a long time to pretend that tonight could solve everything. There were still battles to fight, and things they had to confront from the years. But this was a start.

“Me too.”


	3. Chapter 3

Fenris opened his eyes, nuzzling into the soft pillow under his head and turning over slowly. Hawke was still sleeping, the covers pulled up around her until all Fenris could see was her forehead and hair sticking out. Stretching carefully, Fenris lay on his stomach, dozing lazily. He could still feel last night, encircling him in comfortable drowsiness. 

It had been different, not that he expected otherwise. There had never been a question of who was on top in Isabela’s bed; she ran her bedroom the way she ran her ship, and anything else was her humoring her partner into thinking they were in control. Isabela dragged you with her, pulling you in and leaving you no choice but to submit until everyone was spent and went to regain their strength. There was nothing like it.

But Fenris liked feeling Hawke lose control, softening under his mouth and hands with need filling her voice. He liked waking up next to her in the night and starting again, slow and careful this time,without memories to haunt him this time, until they had drifted off with their limbs still entangled. He loved lying awake and seeing Hawke asleep, all of the worries and armor stripped away. He loved seeing her smile when she woke up to see him there, and feeling her cling to him, keeping him steady as much as he was supporting her, Hawke wasn’t a force of nature that swept Fenris away until he could forget the world; Hawke was a harbor, steady and calm while the outside world waited and Fenris savored the quiet around them. 

Maybe Isabela would have to teach her it was done, Fenris remembered Hawke saying, feeling himself stiffen at the thought. Maker’s mercy, that was a dream to break the average man, Fenris got out of bed, splashing water on his face and shaking out his crumpled pants. Buttoning his pants, Fenris want to stand be Hawke, pulling the blanket aside to see her face. He wouldn’t push his luck, Fenris thought, stroking her cheek lightly. He wanted far more than one night with Hawke this time. 

Opening the door, Fenris heard servants moving around the house. His and Hawke’s shirts had disappeared from the floor, and looking over the landing, Fenris’ sword had been hung up neatly. They would have to work on discretion, Fenris admitted, going in search of his clothes and some food.

“Morning…um, sir,” Orana nodded as she appeared downstairs, hastening up the stairs and thrusting a crisply folded shirt at him.

“Good morning,” Fenris acknowledged more severely than he intended. “No sir, just Fenris, Orana. Are you doing well?”

“Oh…oh, yes,” Orana nodded, and Fenris could feel her staring, her eyes wide with shock at the tattoos over his bare torso. “Mistress…Hawke is very nice to me.”

“Good,” Fenris pulled on his shirt to help put Orana at ease. “I’m glad.”

Orana nodded, smiling under her deferentially ducked head. Curtsying quickly, Orana hurried down the hall at the sound of the door opening. Fenris heard Bianca rattle, and Merrill coo, “Oh, Sandal, you’re looking well this morning.”

“Mis…Hawke?” Orana knocked on Hawke’s door. “You have visitors.”

They really needed to work on discretion, Fenris hastened to Hawke’s door, assuring Orana, “I can wake her. Wait here, please.”

Hawke was already up, digging through her blankets to hunt for her clothes and splashing water on the floor as she washed her face. Fenris opened her wardrobe, picking out something he remembered looked nice and throwing it to Hawke.

“What are they doing here?” Hawke hissed, raking her hair back and tying it loosely.

“Cruel intuition,” Fenris guessed, tossing Hawke a fresh set of pants when she kicked her torn ones out of the way. 

“Fuck,” Hawke smoothed herself and brushed back her hair. “Ok…ok, stay in here, I’ll see-“

“Well, well, well,” Isabela’s voice carried proudly from downstairs. “Hasn’t Hawke got a nice, long, shining blade for herself? Good for thrusting, I’d think.”

“Your sword!" Hawke hissed, as if Fenris could summon it from a floor away.

“This…is a problem,” Fenris admitted.

“I don’t think that’s Hawke’s,” Merrill noted brightly. “Hawke doesn’t use swords that big.”

“That she doesn’t, Daisy,” Varric’s knowing suspicious radiated through the floor.

Hawke and Fenris looked at each other, shooting a glance at the window in unison. They could avoid this conversation for another few hours if they could sneak out the back, Fenris calculated. Maybe a day or two, if no trouble came up and they didn’t go back to Fenris’ mansion.

“Hawke!!” Aveline roared. “Your boots are here, stop acting like children.”

“Take it easy, Big Girl,” Isabela tutted. “Give them a minute to finish.”

“Shit,” Hawke cursed in defeat.

Grabbing Fenris’ neck, Hawke kissed him, marking the end of the night. Fenris rested his chin on the top of Hawke’s head when she leaned her forehead into his chest. They were here because they were worried, because Fenris had run off. They were here because he and Hawke had been obvious. The two of them were never going to live this down.

“Ok,” Hawke sighed in resignation, leaving a kiss on Fenris’ chest above his shirt buttons. “Let’s get this over with.”

Taking Fenris’ hand, Hawke straightened up into her commanding posture, throwing open her bedroom door and leading Fenris to the landing above the hall. Fenris squeezed Hawke’s hand behind the bannister when their audience looked up at them. Fenris didn’t squash a rise of triumph to see Anders wasn’t in attendance.

“Oh, that’s where the sword came from!” Merrill decided happily. “You look better Fenris.”

“Huh,” Varric grunted, crossing his arms unhappily while fighting a smirk. “The Porcupine has removed his spines.”

“About sodding time,” Isabela held out her hand under Varric’s nose. “You owe me two gold.”

“I didn’t think they’d do it _that_ fast,” Varric groaned, dropping two coins into Isabela’s hand. 

“You may tell the romance stories, Varric,” Isabela snatched the coins smugly. “But _I_ actually know when a man is pining. And when he might just get the balls to do something about it.”

“You _bet_ on us?!” Hawke squawked.

“Do something about it...’bout what?” Merrill looked to Isabela for help. “Bet on what?”

“Maker save us all,” Aveline face palmed.

“Watch carefully, Kitten,” Isabela encouraged, cocking her hip confidently. “It’ll come to you. Just like them.”

“Not exactly,” Fenris warned, pulling Hawke to his side.

Merrill blinked her wide eyes up at them, following the line of their arms to where Fenris and Hawke were nestled together. Fenris didn’t mind seeing the realization hit, Merrill’s eyes getting even bigger before she gasped.

“Oh… _oh_ ,” Merrill clapped her hands. “Oh, you…you’re in love…again!””

“Or something,” Aveline sighed, kicking at the carpet.

“What’s wrong with ‘or something?’” Isabela asked, winking at Fenris and Hawke. “I’m just sad _I_ wasn’t invited.”

“Not this time,” Hawke leaned against Fenris’ shoulder. Isabela’s glow dimmed in a hurt wince, and Fenris looked at Hawke in surprise for the flare of jealousy. Hawke frowned at herself, finishing with a quick smile and only some sarcasm, “Maybe someday. If you’re very good.”

Varric laughed shortly, Aveline groaned when Isabela laughed, and Merrill squeaked. Fenris laced his fingers with Hawke’swhen she glanced up at him, tempted to drag her back into the bedroom but contenting himself with a squeeze. 

“Mmmmm,” Isabela sighed approvingly, combing her eyes over the pair and considering her options. “Hawke, you delicious tease.”

Fenris kissed Hawke’s hair, feeling Hawke turn into his chest. They still had a lot to conquer. Fenris planned to do just that, with Hawke at his side. If Isabela joined in…well, it certainly wouldn't be boring. 

“Ok, ok, stop staring,” Hawke stepped away from Fenris and came down the stairs to greet her guests.

“Ha, and he _still_ blushes,” Isabela laughed at the two of them, beckoning to Hawke and slinging her arm over Hawke's shoulders. “Come on, you need a good breakfast.”

“Ooooh, can we have strawberries, to celebrate?” Merrill skipped after Isabela and linked arms on Hawke's other side. “With sugar and cream?”

“Don’t give her ideas,” Aveline begged, stomping after the others.

Fenris strolled more slowly, straightening his sword against the wall and all too aware that Varric was waiting for him. Varric scratched his chest, coming to pat Bianca innocently.

“Gotta hand it to you, elf,” Varric nodded sideways. “You do make the story interesting.”

“Glad to be useful to you,” Fenris scoffed, displeased at the thoughtful look on Varric’s face.

“Word of warning though,” Varric continued conversationally. “The hero and her lover reconciling after trials and tribulations doesn’t read so well a second time. Or a third. It get’s damn unpleasant, watching hearts break.”

“So,” Varric turned to face Fenris. “Let’s not try the same plot twist again, hmmm? I’d hate to have to replace our heroine’s lover with an…I dunno, a strapping Orlesian knight.”

“Is that a threat, Varric?” Fenris asked calmly.

“Not a threat, Fenris,” Varric shook his head, dropping his voice seriously. “Just a storyteller looking after his muses. All of them.”

Varric looked up at Fenris, without malice or anger, just his straight forward examination, when he soaked in those around him to build his tales. Varric motioned for Fenris to start walking towards the kitchen, blowing Bianca a kiss as they left.

“I have no intention of…ruining your story,” Fenris promised, adding when Varric threatened to look smug. “You do not need to lecture me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Varric assured lightly, elbowing Fenris proudly. 

"Did you call me a porcupine?" Fenris realized.

"Hey, now, I could have meant Hawke," Varric insisted defensively.

"You said 'his,'" Fenris accused. 

 "I did indeed, elf," Varric laughed, preening like a satisfied cat as they joined the others. "I did indeed."

* * *

These women would be the death of him, Fenris crawled out from between Hawke and Isabela. It would be a death deserving a very dirty verse in Varric's tales, but Fenris wanted to keep living for some time yet.  Hawke twisted free of Isabela, crawling on wobbly legs to join Fenris at the end of the bed.

"You ok?" Hawke asked, hugging Fenris around the waist firmly.

"I am...pleasantly sore," Fenris assured Hawke with a kiss.

Hawke wiggled as Isabela snaked a hand over her stomach. Leaving Hawke to tussle with Isabela, Fenris hobbled to the wash basin and poured himself a drink. Swatting Isabela off, Hawke slipped out of bed to join Fenris. Fenris brushed off Hawke's back, tracing the outline of a dark hickey Isabela had proudly left.

"That's a good one," Isabela bragged as she joined them, wiping herself down while Fenris was still rinsing.

"Can we have less of those?" Hawke begged, pointing two more marks from Isabela that were fading, and one from Fenris. "Someday you'll leave one my armor can't cover."

"That's part of the fun," Isabela laughed.

"For whom?" Fenris asked, earning a smack to his ass when Isabela drifted by. "Ow."

Isabela laughed at the entire lack of discomfort in Fenris' lazy yelp. Hawke was still checking herself for marks, ignoring as Isabela rubbed Fenris' shoulders. Fenris groaned, swaying as his overtaxed muscles loosened under Isabela's practiced fingers. Patting Fenris' ass in praise, Isabela helpfully poked another mark above Hawke's tailbone. Hawke groaned in exasperation, helpfully tipping her head up for Fenris to drop an apologetic kiss on. Isabela kissed the back of Hawke's neck, going in search of her clothes.

"You're not staying?" Hawke asked, wandering back to bed and collapsing with a satisfied thump.

Isabela brushed back her hair, flapping her tunic straight and pulling it on. Fenris joined Hawke in bed, helping to straighten the blankets as Isabela snatched her second boot out from under the bed. Hopping into bed, Isabela kissed them both, releasing Hawke with a smug pop.

"You can handle the cuddling and pillow talk without me, can't you? I'm going to the Blooming Rose," Isabela hopped into her boot.

"That makes me feel adequate," Fenris observed pettily, making himself comfortable with Hawke tucked under his arm.

"Not for that," Isabela waved away his pout. "I have to stock up for tomorrow night, they have the best toys."

"Excuse me?" Fenris wasn't sure he wanted to imagine what Isabela had planned for tomorrow night.

"Not for you," Isabela shooed him again. " _You_ are playing cards with Donnic and Varrixc, I get Hawke all to myself."

Fenris changed his mind; he very much wanted to imagine what Isabela had planned for tomorrow night.

"Jealous?" Hawke teased, running her hand coyly down Fenris' chest and earning an approving laugh from Isabela.

"Yes," Fenris rumbled, catching Hawke's hand before she could tease him further. "Slightly."

"Good," Hawke and Isabela said in unison, just to rub it in.

That was the arrangement, cooked up by Isabela, to "even the playing field." Isabela got Fenris to herself when Hawke was out on patrol, Hawke to herself when Fenris played cards and was dragged out by Varric for "sustenance and sunshine," leaving Fenris and Hawke with the other nights, with Isabela joining in if she didn't find her own amusement.

Patting herself down experimentally, Isabela trotted over, kissing Hawke and Fenris a final time. Leaving Fenris with the taste of Isabela and Hawke on his mouth, Isabela left with a final wave and a call of farewell as she closed the door.

"What kind of toys is she talking about?" Hawke asked.

"Something for sex, I imagine," Fenris earned a shove. "I'm sure she'll find something...interesting. Isabela has a knack for that."

"Hmmm..." Hawke sighed, closing her eyes and pulling the blankets up around her.

Gently tipping Hawke off his chest, Fenris rolled over to lie on his stomach. Four months, and they were here. Fenris' mansion had become little more than a gambling den when he needed it, Hawke was gleefully keeping his hands full with Isabela's help, and Fenris didn't fear the future anymore. Kirkwall was barely standing around them Aveline's command was in jeopardy, and the chances of the mages or the templars razing the city to the ground increased daily.  Dragging himself over to put his arm around Hawke, Fenris closed his eyes. He couldn't think of all of that right now. He just wanted to get some sleep, while they had some peace and quiet.

 


End file.
